doctor says "she will live," the brave little mother goes
to her room and cries for the first time, and faints away.

Ah, gentlemen correspondents, you do well to speak of the bravery of the
President's wife, but you know that these incidents we have related, and
incidents you have seen in your own experiences, show as great, if not
greater bravery and heroism than that of the first woman of the land.
O, the country is full of women who are braver than the bravest man that
ever walked.

ILLUSTRATING THE ASSASSINATION.

It is singular how a great calamity like the attempted assassination of
the President will bring people together on terms of familiarity, and
cause them to discuss things that they never knew anything about before.
People who never thought of such things before, except during the
cucumber season, have become familiar with their livers and internal
improvements, and talk as glibly of the abdomen, the umbilicus--as well
as the cuss who shot him--the peritonitis, the colon, the ilium, the
diaphragm, the alacumbumbletop and the diaphaneous cholagogue as though
they had been attending a Chicago meat cutting match at a students'
dissecting room. Men talk of little else, and this is noticeable more
particularly among men who have nothing to do.

There were two old men who loaf a good deal around a grocery, discussing
the wound of the President, and one was trying to illustrate to the
other how it was. He put on his glasses and took up a butter tryer and
walked up to a lady customer who was leaning over the counter smelling
of some boarding-house prunes. She was a large lady, and perhaps as good
a subject as could have been found. The first old man called the other
up behind the woman, and said:

"There, the assassin stood about as you do, and looked, probably, the
same as you do. Now, you take this spigot and point to the woman, about
here--" and he put the butter tryer on her back, near the belt.

"Yes, I see," said the second old man, as he nibbled a piece off a soda
cracker, and pointed the wooden spigot at the woman, with his finger on
the trigger. The woman was busy looking to see if there were any worms
in the prunes, and she didn't notice what was going on.

"There," said the first old man, as he pushed the end of the butter
tryer a little harder against the woman. "The bullet went in here, and
went around here close to the liver, though probably it didn't touch
the liver, passed through the